Esperanza Magdalene ’14, Wesleyan’s so-called “Fauver Nun,” says that she made the first social blunder of her college life during freshman orientation.

“I took the words ‘Foss Cross’ literally,” she said, kneading the hems of her heavy habit in embarrassment. “While my classmates were fucking the gender binary, I was alone on Foss Hill, crucifying and effigy of Our Lord.”

As the university’s only Carmelite Nun, Magdalene spends much of her time in prayer and meditation. But her life at Wesleyan has not been entirely pure.

“University is a place of temptations and depravities,” she said, in an exclusive interview with the Ampersand. “I’ve never before devoted so much time to onanism,” she confessed. “And I never imagined that I would find so many ways to use rosary beads.”

Despite having succumbed to various sexual improprieties, Magdalene says she remains committed to her vows and to the Carmelite order.

“Mother Superior only allowed me to attend university because the other nuns would not stop singing about solving a problem like me,” Magdalene said. “I absolutely mustn’t betray her trust, or she’ll call me a ‘flibbertigibbet’ ‘a will-o’-the-wisp,’ or ‘a clown.’”

Frustrated by the multiplicity of norms in sexual expression and the attendant difficulties in adapting safer-sex techniques, the university’s Peer Health Advocates (PHAs) have decided to penetrate the status quo with a deconstructive event.

“It’s called Penis and Vagina Jousting,” said PHA Scotus Grotsky ’12. “We ram a giant penis and the giant vagina from the WesWell offices into each other and have a contest to see who wins.”

The event promises to become a yearly tradition in the vein of Groundhog Day.

“It’s like, if the dick wins, it’s six more weeks of patriarchy for the semester,” said awed prefrosh Ken McDowd ’15. “Fuck yes! I’m so excited, go Wes!”

Opposition is nearly as widespread as support for the event, with frontrunners for the title of genital-bearer worried about the possibility of sore wrists and pelvic sprains.

Reproductive rights advocacy rights groups have also expressed concerns, in the words of one protester, “about the heteronormativity of the act in microcosm.”

The administration has voiced its concerns as well.

“[The event is] just lat-out disrespectful,” said Merkin Gurk, Dean of the Class of 2013. “It detracts from the regal rectitude of our other fine traditions, such as the saga of the Douglas Cannon.”

Fetish season is upon us, so hose off your latex chaps and bring your marble bust of the Marquis De Sade out of thebox labeled “baseball stuff” in your attic. This year, the Ampersand has paid a visit to the High Council of the Licentious and the Wicked to bring you this list of the year’s hottest perversions.

John Deere Riding Lawnmowers: Deere hunters can’t get enough of the rumbling motors on their favorite residential lawn tractors. For extra enjoyment, sit on a hard-boiled egg and ride over gravel.

Powdered wigs: Rock me Amadeus.

Tarring and Feathering: Popularized by the popular Foxxx News program Tar Me Up, Feather Me Down with Joe the Plumber, made possible by viewers like you (and Koch Industries).

Astronauts: Houston, we have an enormous, throbbing erection.

Hairnets: Either regular or pubic.

Real-time location data: The ability to achieve a state of sexual arousal only when aware of one’s precise geographic coordinates. Consider buying a new Garmin™ Vibrating GPS.

Blowholes: Dolphins give great blowjobs.

Brechtian Alienation Devices: Based on Weimar modernist Bertolt Brecht’s (1898 – 1956) theory of Verfremdungseffekt, which holds that works of art should not assume false airs of realism that causes the spectator to identify complacently with the characters or action. Rather, a work of art (according to the theory) should employ alienation effects that lead the spectator to gyrate feverishly with erotic glee until the floor is covered with the bounty of his seed.

Feet: You are a deviant and a threat to American values. Get yourself to the nearest castration clinic before you hurt somebody.

Sources have confirmed moderate-volume utterance of the word “vagina” in Shanklin 107 Monday morning, reportedly between 10:34 and 10:36 AM, during a Seminar in Human Biology lecture.

“It was just really uncalled for, completely out of context,” reported Dylan Held ’13, a biology major who was highly shaken by the incident. “[Professor Lodell] was explaining topics in female reproductive processes, and—it just kinda shot out of her.”

“We all thought maybe it was a Freudian slip,” Held added. “I don’t know much about Marxism.”

“Kinda fucked up,” concurred classmate Amanda Goswell ’12, an FGSS major hoping to complete her NSM credits. “Let’s keep vagina fetishes out of the classroom and away from our youth.”

Lodell insists that next lecture’s fucksaw demonstration will be far more course-appropriate.

He licked my ear. And bit it. Like a bunny nibbling on a carrot, he delicately grazed my cartilage and kissed the lobe. What the fuck. Is this supposed to be sexy?

At a party this weekend, I became another victim of the disturbing rise in sexual fetishes on our campus, and frankly, this trend is pissing me off. What happened to chivalry? Is it dead, along with the proper repression of all sexual deviance?

Maybe I’m a bit old fashioned, but sex is something sacred, meant to be shared between two, three, or up to twelve people. Instead of making out with each other’s ears, sexually active college students should be exploring more traditional forms of lovemaking, such as the missionary position, when a couple climbs on top of the Memorial Chapel to fornicate and sing songs they learned at church camp.

They could even take a hint from the Kama Suture, when a lover stabs hir partner with a kitchen knife, stitches it up, and proceeds to penetrate the healing wound. Is this sort of simple, sensual intimacy too much to ask from our student body?

I cannot even remember the last time a nice young man took me out to dinner and a movie before chopping off my hair and braiding it into a rope to use for autoerotic asphyxiation in a public restroom. It has been years since I have even had a boyfriend willing to meet my parents, dress like a giant baby, and let me breastfeed him while watching Sesame Street.

I, like other Wes students, fancy myself a proper liberal, but where are we willing to draw the line between what is erotic and what is just plain weird? Keep it classy, Wesleyan, and keep your tongue out of my ears.